


Mix Tape

by sayasamax3



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Childhood Memories, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3160379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayasamax3/pseuds/sayasamax3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day they move into their first apartment, Tsukishima finds a CD that he was never, ever supposed to know existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mix Tape

Yamaguchi Tadashi has recently turned twenty-two years old, which is just old enough to find his teenage years deeply, deeply embarrassing.   He especially likes to avoid thinking about his middle school years, if he can help it.  

However,  _this_  day is very special, very momentous, because on this day he and Tsukishima Kei are moving into their very first apartment together, and they can’t help but find, in their boxes and boxes  _and_   _boxes_  of things, little odds and ends that remind them of their teen years—every single trying and embarrassing and happy year—up to and including their middle school ones.

“Tsukki, Tsukki look!” Yamaguchi exclaims from his place on the floor, digging out a book from his most recently opened box and holding it up for Tsukishima’s inspection.  “It’s our class yearbook from middle school!”

Tsukishima looks up from his own box, only to shrug and say, “Put it over there,” with a nod toward a nearby bookshelf. 

“No no, Tsukki we have to  _reminisce_ ,” Yamaguchi insists, cracking open the book and flipping through it until he finds the page with Tsukishima on it.  “Look, I found you!  Heheh, you were so sulky back then.” With a teasing grin, Yamaguchi holds the book up, high enough to align Tsukishima’s face with his photograph.  “Yep, haven’t changed a bit.”

Tsukishima levels Yamaguchi with one of his lower-level glares, which incidentally looks nearly identical to his expression in the photograph.  “Fine,” he grumbles, “I’ll reminisce with you, so put the book down.”

Squirming with excitement, Yamaguchi does as told, putting the book in his lap and scooting over to make room around his box.  Tsukishima lets out a very put-upon sigh as he settles in next to Yamaguchi, which does absolutely nothing to wipe the excitement off of Yamaguchi’s face.

“Hm,” Tsukishima mutters, after the two of them have rummaged through a box a little.  Carefully, he pulls out an old photograph.  “Our middle school volleyball team.”  He squints at the picture a moment, before handing it off to Yamaguchi.  “We don’t seem to be in it though.”

“Oh, we are!” Yamaguchi explains, and brings the photo up until it’s maybe a foot from either of their faces. “See, that’s you on the edge.  You’re sorta half-way out of the frame but I think that’s what you were going for.” Yamaguchi doesn’t mention that he’s always thought Tsukishima’s camera shyness was cute.  “And I’m next to you, of course, trying to pull you closer to the team.  Or maybe trying to hide behind you, can’t remember, but either way you’re kind of blocking me.”

“Huh,” Tsukishima says after scrutinizing the photo for a second more.  The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk that’s downright rude as he says, “What do you know, that  _is_  your cowlick.”

“Tsukkiiii,” Yamaguchi whines, but the smirk stays firmly in place on Tsukishima’s face as he reaches up to tug gently on Yamaguchi’s faithfully errant lock of hair.  

“On to the next thing, then?” Tsukishima says, having clearly gotten into the groove of things, no matter his initial (weak) resistance to walking down memory lane.

They pull out a few more odds and ends—desk knickknacks, more photos, a broken pair of cheap headphones—until, at last, Tsukishima pulls out a rolled up tee-shirt.

Carefully he unfurls it and  _something_  falls out, a CD case Yamaguchi thinks, only he doesn’t get a good look at what it is because Tsukishima tosses the tee-shirt over his head before he can.

By the time Yamaguchi has gotten the shirt off his head, Tsukishima has moved over to their bed—still bare, just a frame and a mattress because they have  _no_ idea which box has the linens in it—and is loading the CD into his laptop.  Shrugging, Yamaguchi takes the chance to inspect the tee-shirt.   The shirt must have been one of Tsukishima’s, because it was far too large to have belonged to Yamaguchi in middle school, and at any rate it has dinosaurs on it and a moon drawn on the tag, both of which are definite signs that something belongs to Tsukishima.

“Hey, Tsukki, remember this?” Yamaguchi looks up, holding up the tee-shirt, but he trails off when he realizes that Tsukishima’s attention is not at all with him, and is focused entirely on his laptop.  Tsukishima hasn’t made a move to play the CD yet.  “Uh, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima looks up at him then, with eyes that positively  _glow_  with a deep and sincere amusement that has Yamaguchi feeling embarrassed before he even knows why.

He understands as soon as Tsukishima turns his laptop around, revealing a  _very_  familiar playlist of songs that Tsukishima was never  _ever_  to know existed. 

Smiling and smug, Tsukishima presses play.

Immediately the intro of a song that’s  _far_  too sentimental, with  _far_  too much moon imagery, fills the room, and Yamaguchi Tadashi  _burns_.

“Oh god,” Yamaguchi can’t help but cover his face, his voice coming out muffled from behind his hands, “Tsukki no, turn it off before I die and you have to pay rent on your own.”

Despite Yamaguchi’s pleading and the threat of imminent financial strain, Tsukishima does not turn off the music, but rather turns the laptop back to himself so he can better inspect the playlist. 

“Your ‘ _moon playlist_ ,’ hm?”  Tsukishima says, grinning so hard it hurts Yamaguchi’s face just to look at him.  “That wouldn’t refer to anyone we know, would it?”

“I was  _thirteen_ ,” Yamaguchi says, pleading for mercy.  “I was thirteen and had a huge crush on you and you know that already, Tsukkiiiiii.”

“You even have ‘Moonlight Dentetsu’ on here. Really?”

“It was a  _really big_ crush and I was not discerning.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. 

“ _Was_  a big crush?  Just ‘was’?” he asks, and he’s making that face like he’s got him, he’s gotten Yamaguchi really good, but he  _hasn’t_.  In fact, with that question he’s given Yamaguchi the upper hand, and all because he’s overlooked one very important truth:

Yamaguchi Tadashi is not exactly  _shy_  about his feelings for Tsukishima Kei.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says with a touch of feigned reproach, “You know you don’t need to trick me into saying I love you, right?”

Yamaguchi sees the minute Tsukishima registers his mistake, his grin turning into something decidedly more troubled as his face goes bright red and his eyes dart back down to his laptop.  But it’s too late now, Tsukishima may have started this one but Yamaguchi was going to finish it.

Oh, how he would finish it.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi calls, crawling across the floor until he’s reached the edge of the bed, right next to where Tsukishima is sitting with one leg still dangling over the edge.  Yamaguchi leans his head against Tsukishima’s thigh and looks up, grinning when he catches Tsukishima’s eye.

“Tsukishima Kei,” he declares, “I have the biggest crush on you, ever.”

“Tadashi, no,” Tsukishima attempts to command, but this is revenge, this is what Tsukishima _gets_  for not showing mercy in his turn.

Yamaguchi nuzzles his face against Tsukishima’s thigh with a considering hum.  He’s being positively, sickeningly sweet and he knows it, revels in how hilariously Tsukishima’s face contorts has he pretends to not enjoy the affection and fights off the urge to start petting Yamaguchi’s hair, the way he tends to whenever he has more feelings than he knows what to do with.

“I  _like_ like you, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi continues a moment later, once he sees Tsukishima let his guard drop just a bit. “Do you like like me?”

“Tadashi—“ Yamaguchi blinks expectantly up at Tsukishima, who sighs and goes a shade pinker before mumbling, “Yes, I—must I?”

Yamaguchi holds back his snickers, barely. “Mhm.”

“Fine, I  _like_ like you.”

“Really?” Yamaguchi asks, as though he can’t believe it (there was a time, years ago, and even in times more recent, where he truly couldn’t), “Enough to go out with me?  To move in with me?  To marry me and adopt dogs together, since we both suck with kids?”

 “You’re fine with kids,” Tsukishima grumbles under his breath; Yamaguchi files that statement away for further contemplation.

“That’s not a yes, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima drops back onto the mattress with a frustrated huff, so he won’t have to look Yamaguchi in the face anymore.  “We have  _been_  dating for six years, we’re moving in together  _right now_.  What do you think?”

Yamaguchi cracks then, laughing as he climbs onto the bed so he can fit himself against Tsukishima’s side, snug as always.  Reflexively, Tsukishima curls an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry Tsukki,” Yamaguchi murmurs when his snickers die down.  “But to be fair you make it easy.”

“Shut up Tadashi.”  The phrase is wrought with affection.

“Just one more  thing though,” Yamaguchi says, rolling over until he’s lying mostly on Tsukishima’s chest, their faces close enough that, with a bit of effort, they could kiss. “Can I Tsukki?”

Tsukishima gives him a wary stare, but nods.

“Well, it’s just—You didn’t answer all of my questions.” 


End file.
